


if you want me to (i'll stick with you)

by seungsiks (galacticnik)



Category: X1 (Korea Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, Fluff and Crack, Friends to Lovers, M/M, please don't take this seriously because i didn't
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:28:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23238466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/galacticnik/pseuds/seungsiks
Summary: Yohan's best friend develops superpowers, and also gains an ass (the two are directly related).
Relationships: Kim Yohan/Lee Hangyul
Comments: 14
Kudos: 74





	if you want me to (i'll stick with you)

**Author's Note:**

> yes i know this is belated and untimely as hell, but this is one wip i really wanted to finish for my friends. and also because i couldn't find the yohangyul content i wanted so i had to do it myself. small warning for some vulgarity & crude content! but it's boys being boys!

“Something weird's going on with Hangyul,” Seungyoun says.

Yohan blinks, sandwich halfway to his mouth. Beads of sweat form on the back of his neck as Seungyoun waits patiently for an answer or some kind of acknowledgement that _yes_ , Hangyul is acting strange and _no_ , it’s not just his imagination. Both things are true, but Yohan is obligated to vehemently deny it because of loyalties. “Who’s Hangyul?” he says intelligently, and Seungyoun leans over to flick his forehead.

“Lee Hangyul? About 5’9, sexy, brown hair, sexy, bad eyesight, _sexy_ —”

“I feel like you didn’t have to mention ‘sexy’ as much as you did.”

“No, I really did.” 

Yohan suppresses a groan. If he had to get accosted by a hot guy (objectively speaking, of course; he can recognize that Seungyoun is a Whole Package even if Yohan himself isn’t interested in unwrapping it) during lunch, he’d rather it not be about _Hangyul_.

There are two wolves inside Yohan. One is Hangyul’s best friend and therefore eager to play the wingman for him whenever possible—especially with prime bachelors such as Cho Seungyoun. The other is gay and has been in love with Hangyul since he was thirteen. Possibly earlier. He doesn’t know, and neither does the wolf. 

Wait, there’s a third wolf. This one just wants to finish his sandwich. 

“The other day I saw Hangyul crying while lifting a 20 pound weight with both hands,” Seungyoun continues, oblivious to Yohan’s internal monologue. He runs a hand through his damp hair, the light hitting him in a way that makes Yohan reconsider whether he’d like to get a piece of that or not. Sadly, his loins remain unaffected by Seungyoun’s otherworldly beauty. This, Yohan reflects, is super fucked up. “Today he’s bench pressing like over a 100 pounds without breaking a sweat.” 

“Uh.” He knew it would come to this. Okay, he didn’t know it would be _this_ , specifically, but Yohan had been expecting the worst ever since Seungyoun said ‘Hangyul’, and this is the worst, albeit of a different flavor than he was originally anticipating. He tries desperately to maintain his calm while taking a bite of his sandwich, then chews excruciatingly slowly to buy time to think of an explanation that doesn’t sound batshit crazy. “He’s been working out,” he says finally, swallowing. 

Seungyoun’s eyes narrow. “By the ‘other day’, I _literally_ mean the day before yesterday.” He crosses his arms over his chest. “Pretty sure the human body doesn’t work like that.”

“Steroids…?” Yohan tries hopefully. 

Seungyoun stares at him in a way that clearly says, _you’re an idiot_. Yohan deserves it. He accepts it as a fundamental truth of the universe. _Yes_ , he is an idiot. But he’d rather be an idiot than the guy who gives up his best friend’s secret to some dude after said dude applies the tiniest bit of pressure. ”You really don’t think something fishy is going on?” Seungyoun probes gently.

Yohan takes another bite of his sandwich. “Nah,” he says, mouth full. “It’s probably just your imagination.” 

“Your _manners_ ,” Seungyoun says, sounding mock-scandalized. For a second, Yohan is worried that he won’t drop the subject, but then Seungyoun pats him on the back hard enough that Yohan chokes on his bite and desperately reaches for his bottle of water, spluttering. “I’ll let you eat, or whatever. I guess love really is blind.” 

“What do you mean ‘love’?” Yohan wheezes. His Feelings are supposed to be the best kept secret at their university. The best kept secret in the world—fuck Area 51. “Hyung, what the fuck do you mean ‘ _love_ ’?” 

But Seungyoun gives him a Cheshire grin and moves on to a different table, leaving Yohan alone with his suddenly unappetizing sandwich and the knowledge that maybe he’s been 30% less slick about his long and tortured unrequited love for his best friend than he originally thought.

There’s also the fact that Seungyoun noticed Hangyul’s Thing, and if Seungyoun noticed then other people have noticed, and Yohan is not nearly good enough of a liar to field any future inquiries.

So basically, he’s fucked thanks to Hangyul, and not by Hangyul, which would probably be a lot nicer and less anxiety inducing, but sadly won’t happen because Yohan’s doomed to pine after him for life on account of being a coward.

_Awesome._

* * *

The details surrounding Hangyul’s Circumstances are still fuzzy, although it only happened like three days ago. 

Yohan remembers the smell of ozone lingering in the air, remembers the storm and the lightning that followed. He remembers Hangyul showing up at his doorstep looking pale and promptly throwing up all over the welcome mat, and he remembers swearing and reaching out to catch Hangyul before he could fall while Hangyul’s fingers scrambled to find purchase in Yohan’s hoodie. 

Hangyul looked at Yohan with glassy eyes, and for a second Yohan thought, _oh fucking shit what if he’s in love with me the mood is kinda right what if he’s going to confess would I kiss him even though he just threw up haha what am I thinking oh shit he’s still looking at me like that Hangyul don’t you know I’m in love with you and my young heart is too fragile for—_

Then Hangyul threw up again, and the romance of the situation died. Feeling wronged, Yohan dragged him inside, ignoring Hangyul’s feverish mutterings about being struck by lightning (what?) and slammed the door shut behind them. 

Yohan sucks at taking care of other people. It’s not his thing. He’s a disaster in human form, and the best he can do on a good day is avoid bumping into another disaster and making everything worse. 

But this was Hangyul—as his best friend, Yohan is legally entitled to do as much as he can. So he’d carried Hangyul on his back and dropped him on his bed before piling as many blankets as he could on top of them. He’d fetched water, put a cold cloth on Hangyul’s forehead, and made him his best approximation of soup. 

(He held Hangyul’s hand through most of the night too, but while Yohan’s had years to come to terms with the fact that his feelings for Hangyul aren’t platonic, he doesn’t like to talk about it.) 

Yohan dozed off at some point in the early morning and woke up in time to see Hangyul rip his bathroom door from its hinges. He stared, and Hangyul stared, and outside, his mom called out to say that breakfast was ready and did she hear Hangyul’s voice earlier, should she set a place for him at the table?

It took a few more minutes for Yohan to pull himself into a sitting position, ignoring the protests his back made after a night of sleeping on the floor. “Dude,” Yohan said, then dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. “What the _fuck_?”

“I don’t know—“ Hangyul looked panicked. His hair was sticking up and there were dark circles under his eyes, but he looked overwhelmingly normal otherwise. No, wait, that wasn’t right. Yohan narrowed his eyes. He looked a little… taller and broader, more muscled, like the Hangyul in Yohan’s private dirty fantasies. 

_Huh._

Was he still sleeping? 

“I didn’t mean to—” Hangyul dropped the door with a resounding thud! then picked it back up with one hand, easily. “How do I put it back?” 

“Just put it in?” 

“I’m doing it!” Hangyul flailed. “It keeps slipping out!” 

“It’s a door, not your dick!” But no matter how Hangyul tried to replace the door, it wouldn’t stick. It took a while for Yohan to realize it would never stick, because the hinges—well, that wasn’t how doors worked. “Leave it,” Yohan said finally, and Hangyul gently propped the door up against the wall before shuffling over. “I guess it was broken or something.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Sighing, Hangyul flopped onto the bed—which split in two with a _crack!_ as soon as his weight hit it. Bewildered, he simply lay there in between the two halves of his bed, his breathing shallow. Yohan stared from the floor, jaw clenched, unable to process what the fuck was going on.

“Yohan,” Hangyul said after a pause. “I think there might be something wrong with me.”

“Yeah,” Yohan replied. “You—“ He discreetly pinched himself. No, this definitely wasn’t a dream, which meant that—“You gained a ton of weight, man.” 

“Shut up.” Hangyul’s laugh was strained, and the pillow he threw above Yohan’s head was travelling at such high velocity that it punched a hole into the drywall. His laughter abruptly stopped. “Oh, _no_.”

“Uh.” Taking a breath, Yohan surveyed the damage, ignoring the violent pounding in his head. “Yeah, there’s something definitely wrong with you.” 

Hangyul clenched his fist around his phone and broke that too. “ _Great_.”

“Yeah.” Yohan stood gingerly and nudged the broken bed with a toe. “So hey, want to stay for breakfast?”

Hangyul opened his mouth to say something—possibly about the destruction he was leaving in his wake, possibly about the fact that he didn’t know how to explain any of this to Yohan’s parents—then snapped his mouth shut and shrugged. “Sure.” 

* * *

Yohan finds Hangyul doing push-ups in the park, which is so unnecessary considering he’s already spent hours in the gym working out today, at least according to Seungyoun. 

He’s pretty sure Hangyul’s showing off, but he’s less sure whose benefit it’s for. Maybe it’s a self-confidence thing; ever since Hangyul figured out that he had powers, he’s been smug about them. Yohan supposes it’s better than hating yourself for what you’re capable of. 

“900… 1,000…” Hangyul trails off mid push-up, making a big show of looking startled as Yohan approaches, though his body language doesn’t betray any surprise. The corners of his mouth lift in a greeting, and Yohan instinctively grins back before he realizes that, shit, he’s not in a grinning mood. “Oh, Yohan, didn’t see you there.” 

“Fucking liar. You totally did.” Yohan flicks a balled up wrapper in Hangyul’s direction, who catches it with one hand without missing a beat—thanks to lightning fast reflexes in addition to super strength. Some people get everything. Not only that, whatever transformation Hangyul went through also gave him a fantastic new ass, which Yohan is currently trying very hard not to stare at. The arms are almost as distracting, however. “ _Whatever_. You might want to cool it with the showboating, dude.” 

Hangyul’s brows furrow. He’s still suspended mid one-handed push-up and hasn’t broken a sweat yet. Yohan wants to fight him for no reason except that his shirt rode up a bit and he can see an enticing strip of Hangyul’s bare back from his vantage point and it makes him think about things he’d rather not think about. _I am a functioning member of society_ , Yohan chants silently. _I am not horny._

It used to be easier to be around Hangyul. Guys like Seungyoun are gorgeous in a very obvious way, while Hangyul is more like that stray dog you pick up in an alleyway and think he might be cute after you’ve given him a cut and wash. He’d been less—overtly physical in the past, but his muscles take up so much space now. It stresses Yohan out. 

But in other ways, nothing’s really changed. The things he likes best about Hangyul have nothing to do with what he’s packing. Like the endearingly dumb expression Hangyul makes when he squints at signs without his glasses on, or the way he trips over his words when he’s excited and ends up making incoherent noises. Or how Yohan can interrupt him out of the blue to do something dumb like leg wrestle and he’ll immediately comply because they share one brain cell, or the fact that throughout his whole life, Hangyul’s the only person who’s bothered to take the time to _understand_ him and see beyond his (frankly idiotic) exterior. 

Sure, there’s something about Hangyul that makes Yohan’s breath come out a little shorter, gets him hot and bothered in the shower and leaves him with lingering pleasant dreams in the morning. It pales in comparison to the fact that Yohan literally can’t imagine life without him. 

(The lovesick wolf in him wants to howl.)

He pushes those thoughts out of his head and refocuses on Hangyul, who still hasn’t responded. “You could at least try to deny—” Yohan starts, then changes tack. “Seungyoun hyung was asking about you earlier.” 

“Seungyoun hyung?” Hangyul repeats, puzzled. “What does he want with me?” 

Yohan wonders if it’s ethical to not tell Hangyul how many times Seungyoun called him ‘sexy’ in their converstion. Eh, it's none of his business. “He said he’s been keeping an eye on you and noticed something funny. Maybe try not to bench press so much at the gym, yeah?”

Hangyul finally completes his final push up and jumps to his feet. “You’re probably right,” he says, grimacing. Yohan’s not used to hearing that without a fight and gapes at him. “I just wanted to see if I could do it and I guess I got carried away.” 

“Restraint is hot, you know.”

“Seungyoun hyung, huh?” Hangyul continues thoughtfully. “I didn’t know he cared.” 

“Maybe he’s into you.” 

Hangyul raises both his hands and makes a giant X. “Say it isn’t so.”

“Seungyoun hyung’s a catch!” 

“Sure, but,” Hangyul glances over at him, clear-eyed, and grins like he’s just thought of the funniest joke in the universe but doesn’t want to share. “I like guys who are more…” Pausing, he makes a complicated gesture with his hands, then lets them fall to his side. “See?” 

“More _what_ ,” Yohan asks. “I don’t see.”

“Anyway,” Hangyul says loudly, “It’s weird not being able to—“ He breaks and rubs his face, the smallest hint of annoyance slipping through. “I mean, having to hide all this stuff about me is—I don’t know. Uncomfortable. I’m going through the biggest change in my life and I can’t tell anybody, but I’m not good with secrets either.”

“Puberty is like that,” Yohan says sagely. “But you can share whatever you want with me.” It comes out softer than intended, and Yohan panics. The air around them is too serious all of a sudden, too intimate. “‘Cause you’re my best friend. And I can keep a secret.” He can’t. “What I’m trying to say is that you’re not alone.”

Hangyul stares at him, then quirks a brow. “Are you… feeling okay?” he asks, taking a step forward to press a hand to Yohan’s forehead. “But you’re not—you’re not just _anybody_ to me,” Hangyul continues, when Yohan bats his hand away. “So I already knew.” 

“Gay,” Yohan says, and Hangyul gives him an exasperated look. “Alright, we both are, but still: gay.” Hangyul rolls his eyes and fakes a punch at him. Cringing, Yohan twists to protect his body. “No, don’t punch me! You could probably kill me with like one touch.” 

He’s being flippant, but Hangyul curls his hand back, his eyes widening in alarm. “Sorry.” His smile turns sardonic. “I’m still working on the whole restraining your strength thing.” He links his fingers behind his head and sighs. “Guess that means a relationship isn’t in my future, huh?” 

Yohan ignores the sudden sharp tang of disappointment on his tongue. “I’m sure there’s someone out there willing to die just for the chance to get absolutely railed by you.”

Hangyul cocks his head to the side, blinks, and breaks out into a low chuckle. “Oh, Yohan… I didn’t know you felt that way about me.”

 _Apparently other people do._ “Shut up,” Yohan mumbles, elbowing him roughly, but there’s something tender and almost fragile lying underneath the way Hangyul looks at him, equal parts relief and gratitude and something else. 

With exaggerated gentleness, Hangyul pats Yohan’s shoulder twice—a feather-light touch—and turns away. 

Yohan’s skin burns. 

* * *

It takes 23 comic books and 5 episodes of the CW’s _Flash_ for them to figure out what’s going on, or make their best guess, at least. It mostly boils down to this: Hangyul is an idiot. If he hadn’t decided to take a shortcut on his way back from his club, and if he hadn’t decided to cut across the suspicious laboratory _right_ as lightning struck a mysterious tower and some generator went haywire and zapped him, then he wouldn’t be like, baby Superman—

“This origin story has so many plot holes,” Yohan complains. Nothing about it is clean or makes any real sense, which seems kind of par for the course in their life, but if Yohan wants to profit off this story in the future, he needs some clarity, dammit.

“I thought the whole origin story was, ‘don’t take shortcuts’,” Hangyul says.

“That too.” Yohan chucks his notebook at the wall. “Couldn’t you have like, just gotten bit by a spider or something?”

“Isn’t that cliche?”

“Yeah, but it’s a lot easier to explain than this.”

Hangyul hums under his breath from his perch on the floor and idly flips to the next page of his comic book. “When I give a press conference after saving the city of Seoul, I’m just going to say I got struck by lightning.”

Yohan tries to imagine Hangyul facing a crowd of reporters in some kind of a superhero power pose, his cape billowing behind him. It doesn’t fit. “Do you… want to be a hero?” he asks after a pause. They’ve never really talked about it before, too focused on figuring out what was going on to consider what they—well, what _Hangyul_ —should do with his new powers. “I mean, don’t get me wrong. You in tights would be fucking hilarious, but—“

“I don’t know yet.” Hangyul sits up, comic book abandoned. “Should I…?” 

“With great power comes great responsibility?”

“It just seems so _hard_.” Hangyul’s gaze grows distant as he contemplates the question. “I know it’s probably the right thing to do, and maybe… I don’t know, maybe Batman didn’t have all these doubts, but I’m not Batman.” He sighs. “All that danger, all that lying, trying to live two different lives. It sounds so lonely.” He glances over at Yohan almost shyly, then quickly looks away. “If I did, would you still stick around?” 

Is that even a question? Yohan leans over and pokes Hangyul’s shoulder. It ends up hurting his finger instead. “I’m not going anywhere.” He can’t imagine a life without Hangyul—or ever willingly walking away from him. It just doesn’t make sense. Even if Yohan didn’t have feelings for him, his place would be by Hangyul’s side. “I’ll be your better looking sidekick.”

“Better looking,” Hangyul repeats flatly, but his eyes are crinkled in a smile. “ _You_?”

“I’m a snack.”

“Yeah, stinky tofu.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Yohan repeats, perhaps a little too seriously for the moment, but Hangyul grasps his hand with bruising force and gives it a thankful squeeze. The tension bleeds from his shoulders. 

“I know,” he says.

* * *

Yohan becomes really good at explaining things that defy explanation for Hangyul’s sake. 

Like, _how did Hangyul run a lap around the field in the blink of an eye_? You blink really slowly and your perception of time is flawed. 

Or, _how did Hangyul rip the door off his locker like it was a slice of processed cheese?_ Maintenance fucked up and loosened the hinges. Also rust, probably. 

Or, _where did Hangyul’s juicy ass come from?_ It was always there; you just never noticed it before. 

And so on. 

It gets a little exhausting; Yohan wonders why he’s the one fielding all the nosy questions, but when he complains, Minhee looks at him like he’s grown a third head and says, “Well, aren't you dating?”

“We’re what?” 

“You’re his boyfriend; you know him better than anyone.”

“We’re not—what?”

Minhee pinches the bridge of his nose. “I hope I get to keep my brain cells when I get old.”

“Dude—I’m not that much older than you? Also, _what_?”

But Minhee is possibly the spawn of Satan and never responds to his question before flitting away, and Yohan didn’t even know people could _flit_ like that, so it’s a tough day all around. He considers asking someone else about this, in case it’s been spreading around campus behind his back or something, but he can never insert it into the conversation casually enough for it to not sound like a big deal. 

There’s nothing inherently _wrong_ about people thinking he and Hangyul are dating, aside from the following:

  1. The fact that they’re not;
  2. The fact that Yohan would like to be;
  3. The fact that Hangyul doesn’t know shit about this because Yohan is very careful about preserving their friendship; and
  4. The fact that Hangyul has gallantly sworn off romance because he can still break people too easily and even if he hadn’t, he probably wouldn’t be into Yohan.



So maybe there are a few things wrong and Yohan has absolutely no idea how to fix them aside from putting on his big boy pants and doing something crazy stupid like jumping from a tall building and wait for Hangyul to save him so he can get swept up in the moment and confess his feelings. 

But Hangyul’s the future hero here, not Yohan. He's not brave enough to take the risk. 

* * *

“I don’t want to make you keep cleaning up my messes,” Hangyul says. 

They’re on their way home from club activities, and it’s freezing despite the fact it’s spring. Hangyul doesn’t seem to feel the icy bite of the wind and loans a shivering Yohan his scarf for the walk. Just another one of those perks of Hangyul’s close encounters with the third kind. He feels like they discover something new every day, but Hangyul still can’t fly. That’s something. 

“Your—“ Yohan frowns. “Why are you saying that all of a sudden?”

“I dunno, I just.” Hangyul tilts his head back and exhales. “I feel bad, like I’m asking for too much.”

From this angle, Yohan can see the faint scar across his neck. It’s only a couple of days old; it’d healed faster than they expected, but it’s still a palpable reminder for them both that—shit’s real. 

Hangyul’s been going out at night these days, wearing a musty old ski-mask they’d unearthed from Yohan’s closet. He’s trying to be a hero, and that means Yohan is forced to cover for him. As a result, he feels like he’s lied about Hangyul’s whereabouts and activities to just about everyone: professors, police officers, _Hangyul’s mom…_

“I don’t mind.” Sure, it’s not ideal, but when Yohan watches a battered and bruised Hangyul sneak into his room at night, he feels like he wants to support him in whatever way possible, even if that means playing janitor or being his alibi. “Have I ever complained?”

“Constantly.” 

“More like one time and that’s because I had to explain why you were naked in my room—“

Hangyul grins. “Your mom didn’t believe it.”

“My mom didn’t believe it,” Yohan repeats forlornly.

“It’s just—it’s probably annoying.” Hangyul’s never had a problem saying what’s on his mind, but he sounds a lot like this honesty is costing him, like he’s spitting it out in spite of his better judgement.

“You’re not—it’s not.” Yohan wonders if he’s been giving off those vibes. He doesn’t think anything about Hangyul is annoying, not even any of his _actual_ annoying habits. “Not everyone gets to be a part of their best friend’s journey as a superhero in the making.” 

“You could still tell me to screw off.” 

“I wouldn’t. You’re stuck with me.” Yohan doesn’t make promises lightly. He knows Hangyul worries—about alienating people, about being forced to deal with all this alone, and he’d told him he wasn’t going anywhere. So Yohan won’t. It’s as simple as that. “I’m the Iris West to your Barry Allen. The Mary Jane to your Peter Parker. The Lois Lane to your Superman—“

Hangyul laughs. “You’re just naming love interests.”

“They are _supportive life partners_.” And love interests, but that’s beside the point. 

Hangyul’s laughter fades into the wind. “I figured you’d do the ‘no homo’ thing again,” he says. He exhales loudly, and there’s a sad, almost bitter twist to his lips. 

It takes a moment for Yohan’s brain to process his words. He feels like the world is one of those carnival rides specifically designed to scramble his brain, and he’s just gotten off but he wants to puke instead of use his words. “No,” he says, then, “Wait, not no as in ‘no homo’, but no as in—what?” 

“It’s just,” Hangyul isn’t looking at him. “All this stuff happened, and you’re here, and that’s really great, but I wonder if it’s _always_ just going to be like with us.” Shoving his hands in his pockets, he hunches his shoulders forward. “If you still don’t look at me differently after all this, then…” Trailing off, he laughs, but it sounds perfunctory. “I guess there’s no hope.”

It’s like Hangyul is saying words that make sense individually, but not when strung together. It can’t be what it sounds like, because it sounds like Hangyul is implying that he cares about Yohan more than just platonically. But that’s crazy. Like, next level crazy. 

He sneaks a glance over. The tips of Hangyul’s ears are red. “I could be a love interest too,” Yohan says carefully. “You know, if—you know. I would be okay with that.”

Hangyul stops walking. “What?”

“I just—“ Yohan stops too. The lump in his throat threatens to choke him, but he’s come too far to back down now. “I’ve. I don’t know? Had romantic feelings for you for a long ass time.” Since he was thirteen and went to the amusement park with Hangyul on an aggressive non-date which made Yohan feel more than he has with any boyfriend since then. “I’m, I’m in love with you, but I didn’t think you were interested and our friendship felt more important than kissing you, which I really wanted to do—”

Hangyul drags a hand down his face and sinks into a low crouch. “You’re supposed to _tell_ me these things,” he says, voice muffled through his hands. “You can keep me updated on your bowel movements every morning but not this?”

“Cheers,” Yohan says, flashing him the peace sign. But his palms are clammy and his heart’s beating fast enough to be worrisome. _Local Boy Has a Heart Attack While Attempting to Confess to the Object of His Affection:_ a depressing headline, but a fitting one for him. “But yeah. Surprise? You’re…” Hangyul raises his head, and Yohan’s breath catches in his throat. “The only guy I’ve ever liked.” 

“No.” Hangyul looks both pleased and horrified, grasping Yohan’s outstretched hand and climbing to his feet. “Seriously, daily updates on your poops, and you don’t mention this?” 

“I am an enigma.” 

“Me too.” His face splits into a bashful grin. “I’ve liked you for a long time too. I just figured I would wait to say something until you liked me back.” Hangyul’s eyebrows draw together. “Sometimes I felt like you did,” he adds haltingly, “but then you’d back off or make a joke out of it and I’d second guess myself.” 

Yohan’s throat is dry. “I’m an idiot,” he says hoarsely. He knows what Hangyul means. There were times where they’d both toed the line, and Yohan had been one breath away from stepping over—but then reality would hit and he’d scramble back far enough that it took forever to try and close the distance again.

“Agreed.” But there’s no blame in Hangyul’s eyes, just an emotion Yohan never thought would be directed at him. “I really want to kiss you, but I’m scared I might, uh...” He makes another complicated hand gesture, but this one Yohan can interpret easily. 

“I would let you break my jaw for a kiss from you,” Yohan says immediately. 

But Hangyul is careful as he cups Yohan’s face and draws near to press their lips together. It’s a slow, gentle kiss, one that promises to be the first of many. Yohan’s relieved to find out that gaining powers didn’t also give Hangyul supernaturally good kissing skills. He’s also grateful that it doesn’t, you know, hurt, but that’s a different story. 

When they pull away, Hangyul’s face is a little red. “So,” he says, licking his lips. “Love interest?”

“With a face like this, I have to be, right?”

Hangyul gives him a cheeky grin, but his eyes are soft and indulgent. “ _Sure_.” 

Yohan pulls him in for another kiss, and it’s one of those two-page, full panel comic book illustrations, and Yohan thinks that really, being the Kim Yohan to Hangyul’s Superhero Name Pending wouldn’t be a bad thing at all.

* * *

(“I think your superhero name should be _KOREA’S BEST ASS_.” 

Hangyul smirks. “You want everyone looking at my ass?”

Yohan makes some mental calculations in his head and comes to the conclusion that no, he does not. “Not really.”

“Maybe I _should_ emphasize my assets.”

“Please…” Yohan puts both hands on Hangyul’s ass. “Save your assets for me.”

Hangyul snorts, but doesn’t shove him away.)

**Author's Note:**

> i still feel some kind of way about this but i decided to push it out into the world instead of hitting delete and restore in google docs every five minutes. anyway! thank you for reading and i'm sorry it took me so long to post something for them!


End file.
